Rock Music and Wheeled Shoes Meets the BAU
by everythingbuteverything
Summary: Shay was the not so average kid. Addicted to rock music and paring most colors with black, what happens when the BAU comes to her school, looking for her, because she could be the next target. Rated T: Mentions of Self harm and maybe future self harm scenes, swearing, some graphic details in future chapters
1. Chapter 1

The hallway was crowded right before lunch, like every other day. The noise level of all the other people talking was enough to invade the comfort shield of my loud rock music blasting in my earbuds.

Heelie (the wheeled shoes) clad feet make their way down the hall. I can feel everyone's eyes staring at me, just like always. I like to think it's because of my blinding awesomeness, but I know it's because of my rocker emo look. Everyone except my best and only friend have a different name for it. Slut whore. Ugh.

If the black top falling off one of my shoulders to show a neon blue undershirt isn't loud enough, I paired it with neon blue leggings, all the bracelets I could find, my normal piercings (nose, and then the multiple ones in my ears) and my dark makeup. Plus the black hair. Can't forget the black hair. I was a pretty loud character, with or without my Black Veil Brides, or my Blood on the Dance Floor, or my Panic! At the Disco. It is just me being me.

And I love being me.

I could see a group of people standing around where Sarah and I normally wait before lunch, by the art room door. Even from the back sides of their heads, I knew who they were instantly. The group that would bully us every day, all starting back in elementary school.

Sarah is my only friend, and sometimes I think she might have more issues than I do. Who am I kidding, she definitely has more issues than me. Even though she looks like the typical straight A student, and she does get straight A's (HOW?!), she has a lot wrong with her. A month after we first started being friends in 3rd grade, she confided in me that here parents beat her, and that her father once touched her in places a dad should not ever touch.

And that the way she coped was by slicing her own skin.

Yeah, that kind of rubbed off on me too.

We have been best friends for a long time, we can't even remember how we became friends, and we both suffer from the same things.

Insomnia and depression.

Gotta love the mental illness.

I know something was wrong the moment I got within ten feet of the group.

"Hey- Hey. HEY. Get away from her!" I push through the crowd to stand in front of Sarah. I caught a glimpse of why everyone was surrounding her and bulling her. One of her eyes was black.

"Oh, look. It's the whore." Samantha, what I believe to be the leader of the group, steps away from Sarah, and gets close to my face.

"What are you going to do whore? Go slit your wrists. It will do the whole world good." She touches her index finger lightly to the tip of my nose, and I slap her hand away. Her face contorts into something resembling shock and anger mixed together.

Meaning she looked like she sucked on a lemon.

"Are you really that asshole that everyone thinks you are? You're really going to stand there with your posse and bully someone who gets beaten every day? Who has been suffering from everything for most of her life? Who wants to freaking end her life?" I spit out into her face, and she recoils back a few steps.

"You better watch your back, bitch." She shoves me hard and stalks down the hallway looking for her next victim. I turn to face Sarah, but she already disappeared into the crowd. I slump back against the door, it banging against the frame around it.

There is a knock at the window in the door and I turn to face Miss. Appleby, the school art teacher. I quickly straighten up and she opens the door.

"You going to come in here for lunch again?" She asks, leaning against the door frame.

I always eat lunch in the art room. It's just a thing that I started to do when I first got into middle school. I'm in 9th grade now, but I still do it. It frees me from everyone who stares and laughs.

I quickly nod at Miss. Appleby, "Yeah. I'm going to get lunch now. I'll be back in a few minutes." I point in the direction of the lunch room and she nods.

"Okay. I'll be waiting. I'll get your canvas out." Miss. Appleby goes back into the art room and I roll in the direction of the lunchroom.

"Hey… Shay? Hold up!" A voice calls for me through the crowd. I stop and spin around in a circle to face Delilah, a girl a grade younger than me. I see her standing by her locker every once and a while. She's panting as if she just ran the mile, and her red curly hair was going everywhere.

"Yeah?"

"Did you hear the talk going around yet?" She quickly speaks. I give her a puzzled look and she continues.

"The FBI is here for you. Everyone is talking about it."

I open my mouth but the only sound that comes out of it resembles a really weird squeak. For being a person that everyone thinks gets into trouble with the police, I have never gotten into trouble with anything.

"I think… I'm going to get my lunch, and they can have a wild goose chase trying to find me. You officially don't know me. Thanks." I pull her into a quick hug, and wheel down the hallway to the lunchroom.

If our school had an assembly, just to ask who I was, I bet the only people who would be able to pick me out would be Sarah and Delilah… And maybe Samantha, depending on how much hairspray she used getting ready. Everyone knew my name, but I was always invisible, because no one in the school is smart enough to put a face with my name… Or an outfit to be exact.

Walking through some doors, I looked in the glass to see the reflections of two men and a women I didn't know. Defiantly the FBI agents. I acted normal, stayed calm, and got my lunch. They chose a different route and stood in front of the entire lunch room. I was headed to the hallway.

"Hello, were are with the FBI, and we are looking for one of your classmates. Her name is Shay Nettles. If anyone knows where she is, please tell us immediately." The dark skinned FBI agent asked as the brunette female and the dorky looking male stood slightly behind them. The lunchroom responded with an awkward silence.

I continued to roll down the hall until I heard footsteps coming my way.

"Excuse me, miss, but do you happen to know where Shay Nettles is?" I turned around to face the dorky agent and lifted up my eyebrow. I quickly adopted a British accent and replied him.

"Sorry, sir, but I don't even know who she is. I just transferred here from London." I replied smoothly and continued to go down the hall.

The man didn't press after, so I thought he believed me.

When I got into the art room, Miss. Appleby wasn't in there. She was probably out collecting papers or something else. She had laid my piece of canvas on one of the tables. I had been working on the thing for most of the 9TH grade school year, and it still wasn't done. I went over to her desk and logged into her computer, a privilege she gives the luckiest of people, go to Pandora, and select my rock playlist. Soon the room gets filled with loud rock music, and I get my paints ready.

I was dancing along with a paint brush in my hands, the rock music loud enough to hide any other noise. The song froze to buffer so I turned around to go fix it and was met face to face with the two male FBI agents.

"Oh… Hi," I say, quickly adopting a British accent. The dark skinned male points at my painting, "That's good. How long have you been working on it?"

I take a few seconds to gather what was happening and start babbling about my painting. The two men stay totally quiet as I speak, but my voice eventually dies down when I realize something.

I cut the accent.

"Heh… Well, it was nice talking to you two, so I'll just be going." I quickly throw the paintbrush down, and make a mad dash towards the door.

I had the advantage of having wheeled shoes, meaning I got all the way to the stairs leading to the downstairs classrooms before getting pinned to the floor. The first thing I felt, was my nose making contact with the floor.

"Shit!" Was the only thing that came out of my mouth.

"You are Shay, aren't you?" the larger man got off of me, and I pull myself into an upright sitting position. I had blood dripping from my nose and on to my clothes.

"How long did it take you to figure that one out, smart one. Ow." I pinch my nose to get the bleeding to dye down, but it keeps flowing. I get up off of the floor, shaking out my ankle that was twisted in the fall, and start to slowly move for the gym locker room.

"Hey, missy. Just where do you think you're going?" The voice of the dark skinned man asks behind me.

I make my voice as sarcastic as possible and retort, "I'm getting rid of my bloody clothes. You can come watch me strip if you want."

I huff at their faces, and make my way to the changing rooms. I lock the main doors so the men won't get in, and quickly pull a different shirt and a pair of shorts of my gym locker.

I tended to wear old shitty clothes for gym class, but instead of shit, I got the outfit I wore to the school's annual art show. It was a pastel floral print t-shirt and a pair of jean shorts, short enough to show off the first couple layers of my self harm scars.

Going over to the sinks, I wipe the dried blood off my face and quickly put my hair down so it's hanging on my shoulders instead of up in a messy bun, then go back outside with the two FBI agents.

"Come on kid, we have to take you to headquarters." The dark skinned one puts his hand on my shoulder. He started to push me forward until I ducked down and backed up behind both of them.

"First you tell me what's going on. Why are you here for me? What did I do? What are your names?!" I snap at both of the men, pointing my index finger at them

"I'm Dr. Spencer Reid, and this is Derek Morgan," The dorky one, Dr. Reid says, "Were profilers with the FBI. We think you may be the next target for a serial killer." He states calmly.

The words go in one ear and out the other.

"What the fuck?"

* * *

**This here is an authors notice: So I randomly just thought this up yesterday while sitting and doing nothing. It's not a oneshot, it's definitely going to have more chapters (Maybe 5 or 6.) So please enjoy...**

**Or write a review...**

**Or follow...**

**Or favorite...**

**I'll give you tofu lasagna. Garcia's recipe**


	2. Chapter 2

"There you are! Oh, good. You found her. Hotch needs us to leave right away." The brunette I saw before walks into sight. She has her phone out in one hand, and the other sitting on her hip.

"Oh, sorry. I'm Emily. Emily Prentiss," She walks closer and holds out to shake. I quickly return the action.

Our group of four slowly made our way to the entrance, until I stopped by the hallway that hosts my locker. Agent Prentiss must have noticed that I stopped because she turned around to face me.

"Can I get my crap from my locker?" I ask, pointing down the long hallway. The other two agents turned around to face in my direction. Dr. Reid leaned over Agent Prentiss and whispered something in her ear.

"I'll go with you," She quickly says and follows me down the hall. When we reached my locker, I knew something was wrong. Normally all my art would be on the front but it was all scattered on the ground.

Agent Prentiss picks up a few of the fallen pictures that flew way out in the hallway, and I grab the ones closer to my locker.

"Did you draw these all?" She asks while I open my locker, having to slam my elbow into it a few times in order to get it to open. The door pops open to reveal more art work, and little magazine posters of my favorite bands.

"Yeah," I grab my book bag that has my laptop and everything I normally need, and a small picture of Sarah and I from long ago. I shut my locker with my foot, sling the bag over my shoulder, and slump against my locker.

"I know that look. You're thinking. What are you planning?" Emily's voice shocks me out of my thoughts. I look up at her for a few seconds then reply, "Can I say good-bye to my friends?"

She quickly looks behind her to see if Agent Morgan and Dr. Reid were still waiting, but they left the area. I point down a different hallway connected to the one were in now, "It's just down that way."

"Quickly," Agent Prentiss nods and I quickly dash down the hall, then switch into a roll. Delilah and Sarah sitting at the table we normally sat at when Miss. Appleby was gone.

"Hey, I have to go. I don't know when I'll be back but I'll text you okay-" Sarah cuts me off, and Delilah gives me a sad look.

"You stupid whore. I knew I should have never been friends with you. You're so clueless! The FBI is here for you! What the hell did you do?! Screw it. I don't want to know. You probably are the murderer."

"Pardon? What the hell is your problem?!" I snap angrily at her. In the corner of my eye, I can see a person in the hallway I just walked down. Sarah stands up and goes face to face with me. I can see Delilah cringing.

"Get the FUCK out of here!" She pushes me to the floor and storms off, Delilah following closely behind.

I can hear everyone in the lunchroom laughing.

Agent Prentiss quickly walks over and helps me up from the floor. She wraps her arm around my shoulder and guide us out of the lunchroom.

"Are you okay?" She finally says once we were halfway down the hall. I can feel the rage boiling inside me as I look her in the eyes and think of the two other agents waiting for us.

"I hate you. I hate you all." I spit out at her, and continue down the hall, leaving her in the wake. After a few seconds of her stunned silence, I can hear the click of her shoes start up, and she quickly showed up at my side.

Agent Prentiss ushered me all the way to the black Chevy parked in the drop off area, and I quickly got in the back seat that held Dr. Reid. He had a book out in his lap, quickly turning pages, reading faster than humanly possible. Emily shut the door, and climbed in the front passenger seat.

The ride was quiet for the first five minutes, until I thought I was going to go insane without any sound. I pulled my iPod out from my pocket and quickly put in my earbuds, selecting the first playlist.

The loud sounds of Panic! At The Disco quickly fills my ears.

I can feel eyes staring at me, and look around to see everyone's eyes on me.

"What?" I pull one earbud out and ask.

"Kid, we can hear your music." Agent Morgan says.

"So?" I shrug at him, put in my earbud, and turn it up two notches louder.

In about 30 minutes the car came to a stop. In front of us was a large building, the FBI building. The agents get out of the vehicle, but I hesitate for a few seconds. I shove my iPod in an open pocket on my bag and jump out of the car. I am the furthest behind in the small group, until Dr. Reid slows down to match my pace.

"What do you want?" I ask him with no enthusiasm and stare straight forward. He briefly stays quiet, probably thinking if it's a smart idea to continue with the conversation.

"I saw you watching me while I was reading… Yes I was reading that fast," He continues on, pulling a book out of his bag, "I have an IQ of 187 and I can read 20,000 words per minute-"

I speed up a little and stop in front of him, "Do I look like I care?"

He shuts up, and looks slightly taken aback. I mentally snort at him and continue on. Up ahead I could see Agent Derek take his ID card and swipe it over a black box built into the right side of the door. It popped open and he held it for all of us.

The first thing we were greeted with when entering the building was a lady sitting at a desk to help you direct you to were ever you were going. I was led to an elevator where Dr. Reid and Agent Morgan split up with Agent Prentiss and I. Once the door closed Agent Prentiss started laughing.

"They made me swear that I wouldn't talk about this, but they are afraid of elevators. They are taking the stairs to get up to the 4th floor," She said through small fits of laughter. I started to quietly laugh along with her, laughter being my weakness.

"Why?"

"They got stuck inside one on a case."

The elevator dings and the door opens revealing a room full of desks, and a staircase on the back wall lined with doors and windows.

_Must be some offices._

Emily grabs my elbow and guides me to an open conference room where there are a few other people. On one side of the table sat a tired but strict looking older man wearing a suit, along with another older looking man with a beard and blackish hair. Agent Morgan and Dr. Reid sat next to them along with a woman smartly dressed with blond hair down slightly past her shoulders. She has a stack of files in front of her, and is tapping a pen on the top folder.

The other side of the table sat two very familiar people.

My mother and my father.

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**This is an authors note: So here is chapter two. It is shorter than the first one, but I promise that most of the other ones will be long. ENJOY**.


	3. Chapter 3

"Skylar! What did I tell you about all the black make up?! That was part of the deal; you get to walk or ride the bus to school if you stopped all the black! I thought you knew this!" The instant my mom's eyes hit me, she went into scolding mode. My dad was shaking his head slightly, and I just stood quietly.

The rest of the team was awkwardly staring at us.

"Go wash that… that shit off you face now! Go!" My mother stood up from her seat and yanks me from Agent Prentiss's grip, shoving me at the door.

"Go!" She points at the door.

I quickly leave the presence of all the people, book bag in hand, in search of a bathroom I could use.

"Wait up. I got you a wash cloth." I turn to face the smartly dressed blond trying to catch up with me.

"Umm, thanks but no thanks. I'm fine." I quietly tell her, trying to get her to leave. She throws the cloth to me, "Trust me when I say this, but scrubbing your face with paper towel is not exactly the most fun thing to ever do." She crosses her arms over my chest.

"Okay… thanks…Agent…?"

"Jennifer Jareau. You can call me JJ." She gives me a smile, then walks back off in the direction of the conference room.

I quickly made my way to the bathrooms Emily and I passed walking to the conference room. Once I got inside, I quickly threw my bag on a bench in the bathroom, locked the door and started crying.

My mom always manages to make me feel like I should be dead or something else after a bad day. She always finds something to scream at me about. I could do the simplest things, like leaving a fork in the sink, and she would yell at me for being a lazy bastard for hours.

I snatch my phone out of my book bag and pull the back off of it. The battery falls out with a tiny strip of metal. They both hit the ground, scattering. The battery falls close to the sink and the metal piece falls by the bench. I gather them up quickly and put the blade to my wrist.

I take a deep breath, looking directly at what I was doing until I noticed a small white thing sitting a few feet away from the bench.

I put my blade down and picked up the white thing.

It was a pen.

I quickly put my blade and battery back in my phone and picked up the pen. In my messy scrawl I wrote #cutcakenotwrists and proceeded to was all my makeup off my face.

I heard a knock at the door, and the door itself banging against the frame. Someone wants in.

"Are you alright in here?" Agent Jareau asks through the door. I finish wiping the rest of the makeup off my face and reply with a "yeah."

My phone goes back into my bag, and the bag back over my shoulder. I unlock the door and the first thing I am greeted with is a concerned JJ.

"Were you crying?" She quietly asks me while I get out of the bathroom. I shoot her a dirty look.

"Where you snooping?!" I snap at her. She stays quiet as I glare daggers at her. In the corner of my eye, I can see a head pop out of a door.

"Are you done? Come on." The strict looking agent calls out. Agent Jareau takes the lead and starts walking back, and I follow far behind.

When we get back, I quickly take my seat next to my dad. My mother alternates glaring between Agent Jareau and I, and the man starts talking.

"The last crime scene that we went to, we found something interesting. The unsub, unknown subject, had killed a student from a school less than 50 miles away and had left a list behind with names. The list had included your name," The man points at me briefly, "which also happens to be the last name on the list."

"What are you saying? Out of nowhere a serial killer appeared to kill people like my daughter? You're shitting us!" My mom screamed at the man. Sitting a person away from her, my ears still started ringing after she shut up. My dad had a poker face, but I knew that he was cringing in his mind. I was cringing on my face.

"Excuse me? No, we believe your daughter is the next target for a serial killer." The man kept a straight face during my mother's scream fest, meaning I like him a little more despite his cold, scary appearance.

"You expect me, us, to believe this? This is a load of bull," My mom starts up again but I cut her off.

"Just shut up! Shut up and let the man talk." I lean over the table so I can make I contact with her. Her mouth instantly closes, her eyes bugging out of her head.

She's going to kill me.

"I think the best plan of action would to put you two in witness protection, and put Skylar in the custody of the BAU until we find the unsub." The man continued after giving me a slight nod of his head.

"Anything to protect our daughter and ourselves." This time my dad spoke up. My mother's face contorted to something that resembled annoyance and being really offended.

"Mike, no! No. No no no no no. No!" I look over to see my mother with a cherry red face looking murderous.

It was actually quite hilarious. Or maybe it was just the shock of the position I was in. I don't know but I started laughing.

"So it's settled. You will go into witness protection and the BAU will gain custody for the time being. Shay you may go home with your parents. You need to pack anything you might need; a member of the team will be there to pick you up in an hour. You may all be dismissed."

I could tell that the agent who was speaking had enough of my parents and I didn't blame him. We all stood up from the table and slowly left the room.

All the agents went back to their assigned desks while we made our way to the door. Once outside my mom blew up. I quickly climbed in the back of the old woody car that is still running after years of abuse.

"You disrespectful little brat! How dare you yell at me in front of a room full of adults?! Do you know how embarrassed I was? I could have just slapped you!" She screeched at me, getting into the driver's seat of the car, staring at me in the review mirrors. I slink back into the seat, her words shoving me down.

"Honey, just drive." My father attempts to silence her screams, only managing to get her to start yelling at him.

"If you had even bothered to participate in helping her grow up, maybe she would have been normal. But no! You had to go and screw your coworker. It's your fault she's like this!" She starts a battle with him, their yells mingling together deafening me.

I quickly undo my seat belt and slip out the car door.

I was going to walk home.

* * *

**Woooo! It's a day late, but that shouldn't matter.** **For once my reasons for not updating were not: procrastination or writers block.**

**Actually blame it on it being my moms birthday yesterday, I woke up at noon with a headache and fell asleep again waking back up at 2 still needing to wash dishes, make a card, get dressed, and write (I prefer not to write fanfiction when my mom is awake or around.)**

**And I bet you're wondering why I am updating at 2:30 in the morning. I couldn't do it at 1:30 cause my mom opened my door to see if I was still awake, scaring the utter shit out of me. I waited 30 minutes to make sure she was asleep, then spent 30 more minutes writing.**

**Logic.**

**And this chapter was brought to you by these songs that may or may not be totally unrelated:**

**He is We: Lead The Fight On**

**Fall Out Boy: Young Volcanos**

**Black Veil Brides: Knives and Pens**

* * *

**I have a dare for all those people who are getting bullied, or are thinking of self harm or suicide. Get a group of people, a ton of sticky notes, and leave a sticky note with kind words on everyone's locker on Sep 7-13 (suicide awareness week.) That's what a ton of my friends and I are doing. People deserve to know they are beautiful, and wonderful, and that they are worth something, and that they matter.**

**You do matter.**

**You are worth everything.**

**You are beautiful, and wonderful and amazing.**

**And I wish I could hug all of you.**

**Thanks for reading my beautiful people. **


	4. Chapter 4

The only time I am ever going to allow myself to feel like a slut is right now. Walking down the street with a baggy rainbow tee and short shorts, hair going wild, doesn't look normal. Especially not my normal.

But I tried to ignore that fact, because my normal doesn't include getting picked up from school by FBI agents and getting told that I was next on a serial killers list.

Defiantly not my normal.

I knew the streets by heart. A ten minute walk to school gives you enough time to decide if you want to skip and just discover the area in which you live, and I know basically everywhere in this town.

That means two things:

One, I skipped a lot of school. And two, if a friend and I ever decide to go and walk, I know all the shortcuts.

All of them.

None of it mattered though, right now my only goal was to block out the world with some Sick Puppies, and make it home before everyone gets out of school in ten minutes. I was already at a problem with that hope, the last time I walked the distance of the FBI building to my house it took more than 10 minutes. A lot more.

So about 57 steps (I have a counting problem. I count my steps sometimes) I ran right into the person I hoped to never see again.

Samantha.

Except it was more like slamming my face into her boobs. She always wears a pair of four inch high heels, making her already 5'9" stature tower higher than my own 5'4" one.

It took my brain a few seconds to process what had just happened, I just recoiled backwards with a disgusted look on my face. The look on hers matched mine, if not worse.

"I knew you were a little whore. You just want these," She smashes her boobs together with her jewelry covered hands.

"Why would I want fake, saline filled sacks? I've got everything I need." I quickly regain myself, adjusting my bag around my shoulder, and just keep walking forward, ignoring all the comments Samantha was leaving in my wake.

"I'll tell the whole school you're a lesbian! That you got arrested for prostitution! Go kill yourself, whore!" She yells at me. I just turn the music up in my ears and keep walking until I reach the front doors of my apartment building. By the time I set foot in the lobby, I can feel tears running down my face.

I make my way up the stairs, wiping at my eyes every few seconds, and quickly get to the floor that hosts my house. I feel along the edge of the door frame for the key I hide for when I get locked out. Once my fingers hit the familiar metal piece, I tug it out and shove it in the key hole. I push on the door, but it won't open. I shove it with my shoulders and it flies open, banging against the wall.

The first thing I do is go to the closet and grab a duffel bag, bringing it to my room and shoving everything I might need in it. After filling it up with everything I might need, I throw on a pair of decent clothes.

By decent, I mean another black t-shirt and black skinny jeans.

According to the FBI agent, I only had one hour to pack and I spent about 45 minutes of that walking. Plus from past experiences, some people tend to show up early.

And they did just that.

After a few minutes wasted staring at a wall, there was a knock at the door. It took about 30 seconds to process that there was a person waiting for me and I got up to open the door. I was greeted by the faces of Emily and JJ.

"Excuse the garbage everywhere… and the stink... and the fact that everything is shit." I call out to them, walking into my bedroom and grabbing my bag. I pick up my old skate board leaning against the wall and hold it under my arm.

"That's okay." Agent Jareau quietly says, and the two females sit on the couch, JJ sitting in the middle and Emily perching on the armrest. When I come back out, they both stare at me.

"What?" I drop the black duffel on the ground. Agent Jareau stands up and moves to the door.

"We got to go. Come on." She opens the door and holds it open for us. Agent Prentiss eyes her weirdly, as if asking, "How do you know?"

"My phone was vibrating on and off in my pocket. Hotch's vibrate. We got to go." She explains, ushering us out into the hallway. Agent Prentiss just shrugs, and I start chuckling.

Agent Jareau just strikes me as innocent. She looks smart, and pretty, and innocent. But she just described something disgusting, in my mind. I take everything dirty.

And now I know why they were staring at me, which just made me laugh harder.

I finally got myself to shut up when we reached the elevator. I stopped in the hallway behind the two agents.

"Are you coming?" Emily asked from inside the metal box of death. I just shook my head quickly.

"N-no." I choke out, my chest tightening at the thought of me getting into the box of death. The door tried to shut on them, but Prentiss stepped in the way causing the door open up.

"JJ, you take the elevator, I'll walk with Shay downstairs."

Agent Jareau just shrugged at us and hit the button for the first floor. Emily moves closer to me and casually wraps her arm around my shoulders, as if we have known each other for years. I duck out of her grasp and start walking to the stairway.

"Don't like elevators, huh?" She asks, swiftly catching up with me. I don't respond to her question and just crack my knuckles. I can feel my skate board slowly slip out of my grip.

"Here," Emily takes my bag from my shoulder giving me a chance to adjust my board.

"Thanks," I mumble. When we reach the door, I kick it hard in the center. It opens with a squeak and bangs against the wall behind it.

"I could have opened it," Emily mutters, cringing slightly at the bang the door made.

_Probably thinks I have too much rage in me for being so small._

We both quickly slink down the stairs, Emily continually pressing me to answer the question about the elevator with no result. A throbbing pain started behind my left eye.

"Look, I don't feel like talking, let alone functioning right now. Please leave me alone. I'm not going to talk." I finally blurted out once we got to the last flight of stairs. I just wanted her to shut up and stop talking. My head was killing me at that point. Agent Prentiss looked somewhat offended, but she silenced herself, calming my head down a bit.

"Sorry… I was just getting a headache, and life kinda sucks at the moment and-" She cut me off.

"I totally understand. C'mon, let's get to the car."

**Okay... well I'm totally going nutso. Where the hell did that button go that put a line through so you can write an AN? Ughhhhhhh. I am so so so so sorry that I didn't update sooner, I was up north with my grandparents at their cabin, and I was uninspired to write anything, and slightly depressed. High School starts tomorrow, so kiss frequent updates good bye. I am scared to death. And for the last two things I have to say is:**

**1: this chapter is probably going to be the crappiest chapter in this story**

**2: I keep forgetting to put this so, I DO NOT OWN CRIMINAL MINDS AND ALL OF ITS AWESOME GLORY. I only own Shay and my plot. **

**So good luck to the people starting school, and yeah. Enjoy the crap chap**


	5. Chapter 5

Once we got out to the black SUV, Prentiss opened the back door for me to crawl in, and the first sight I am greeted with is a black man with a giant smile on his face. He has his body positioned in the driver's seat so his torso was twisted enough for him to see the back seat, his arm leaning on the back of the passenger seat.

"I hope you like big dogs, Princess, 'cause you're staying with me first and Clooney loves people." Agent Morgan announces once I get situated in the back seat. Prentiss slides in next to me and does the same

I have never been a dog person. The last time I interacted with a dog, it had chowed down on my nose, tearing the skin from the bottom to the tip. After stitches in my face, and not being able to facially emote, it finally healed only leaving a large scar. Luckily that faded after a while. It's barely noticeable now.

"I'm allergic to dogs," I blurt out, trying to save myself from having to be cooped up in a house with one for hell knows how long. Agent Morgan's face falters for a few seconds before he turns around.

The next few minutes I can see Emily and Derek communicating with their eyes in the rear view mirror. I redirect my gaze out the window for a while, watching all the buildings and cars go by until an elbow pokes me in my side, drawing my attention away from the world.

"Don't worry. You can stay with me until its time to switch off with another team mate." Emily whispers in my ear and I groan out loud.

"What do you mean by 'switch off with another team mate?'" I lean away from her in the seat,

my back basically touching the arm rests on the door.

People suck. I rather be in a dark room filled with books than in a room full of people I have never met before. But having to live with a person I don't know is a different thing. I would choose to take my chances with a murder than live with an FBI agent who knows a lot more about me than I know them.

Agent Prentiss explains to me how agents will trade me off when they are busy so they can get stuff done. I just tune her out and look back out the window. I hear a muffed voice in the background say something, but I continue to ignore everything. The voice continues, so I turn more to look out the window, putting my forehead on the window. The voice finally got my attention when the window opened, pulling my face down with it.

"What?!" I snap at Emily. She looks slightly irritated, just like me.

"I have a cat. Are you allergic?" She asks me. I quickly debate if it is a smart idea to lie about

being allergic to cats too, and quickly shoot down the idea.

"No." I shoot a glare at her, and return to staring out a window. Except the problem was that

we were just pulling into the parking lot of the FBI building. I groaned out loud getting looks from Derek and Emily. I jumped out of the SUV like a bat out of hell and a split decision idea pops into my head.

Run.

But knowing what happened the last time I tried that wonderful idea, I decided to just follow the FBI agents and not get my face smashed into concrete.

Emily stays behind me while Derek is in front of me, probably waiting for me to pull something. He is the first to reach the door, quickly pulling out his key card and swiping it. The door opens with a click and Derek holds it for us to slip inside.

The same lady is sitting at her desk, but this time she is scowling at us. I can feel myself tense up and I look away, focusing my vision on the tan speckled tile floors. Derek leaves us at the entrance for the elevators, and heads for the stairwell.

I press the button for the box. When I turn around I see Emily with a really confused look on her face.

"What?" I ask and the doors open. I step inside while she continues to stare. To make sure the doors don't shut without her I put my foot in the middle of the doors.

"I thought you were scared of elevators." She says entering the elevator and leaning against one of the walls. I start laughing at what I pulled earlier.

"Oh, that," I manage to say in between bursts of laughter, "I wanted to see what would happen if I pretended to be scared of the elevator, like Dr. Reid and Agent Derek." I say, scuffing one of my shoes against the ground. As soon as my laughter started, it stopped and I was getting anxious to get out the closet sized hole. I start tapping my fingers against my hips to make fast paced beat along with the cheesy elevator music. After a few seconds of silence Prentiss speaks up.

"You're bipolar, aren't you?" Her voice quietly asks, slicing an invisible knife through the thick silence. I shrug, my fingers still beating against my hip, debating to answer. She presses the stop button on the controls, halting the elevator in its tracks. I fall back against the wall with a soft thud.

"Why does that matter to you?" I shoot back at her.

She's right. I am bipolar. Some days it is worse than others. And I guess today is that day.

Emily stares at me with all seriousness. I nod quickly, trying to get her to start the elevator up again. After a few more minutes, she still hasn't pressed the button. I jab my finger on the square and we start to ascend again.

The door opens back on the floor that is, what I overheard, called the bullpen. Emily starts to lead me somewhere until her phone beeps. She pulls it out of her pocket and sighs.

"Okay, I have a case, so Garci- Penelope will be looking after you until I get back." She says as she puts her hand on my left shoulder and starts pushing me to a new room. We walk down the hallway, my fingers lightly brushing the textured white paint all the down, until we reach a room. The name tag on the side of the door says 'Penelope Garcia- Technical Analyst.'

Emily doesn't bother with knocking, and just walks in. The room has screens covering most of the space, and the faint buzzing of a processing computer can be heard. Except I can see about 5 towers in the room, plus a wall in the back which must be all the servers.

A lady with blonde hair spins around in her desk chair with a large red painted smile on her face. She looks like a rainbow exploded on her. Even on her desk too. Fuzzy pens and troll dolls.

"Eh… rainbows…" My mouth blurts out before I have a chance to process. My hands slam over my mouth. My face flushes over, and I can feel panic rising inside me.

"I am so, so, so sorry. I did not mean for that to come out of my mouth."

**I am so sorry. I haven't updated in so fricken long. It has just been really busy. School started (Freshman) and I've been really busy with all my art classes and life and guitar and so much Criminal Minds its just been crazy. But since I thought it would be a good idea... I UPDATED ON MY BIRTHDAY! Yay! Yep... its mai birfday... 9-22-1999. Officially 15. Which also means I officially got my ears pierced (they are blue). Yay. I probably won't be updating regularly much until vacation, or until I am brave enough to write fanfiction in the other tab during class...**

**UPDATE FOR THE STICKY NOTE PROJECT: It went perfectly. Every locker (even empty lockers... we didn't know they were empty) got a sticky note of kindness. Until some asswipes came along and started tearing them down. Apparently being nice to people makes you a terrorist in our school and means you should be shunned more than normal. And they started calling me Secret Agent Kindness.**

**And now for my last part(s) of this authors note. I dare you to sticky your schools lockers with words of kindness. Peoples reaction to them are so wonderful.**

**I made a mistake in my last chapter about the elevator, so I kinda improved this new perspective... Sorry.**

**And a few more things: Red Band Society... Watch it. I love it. Gonna start some writings on that, I think. **

**And for the last thing... The songs I listened to while writing this: Odd One- Sick Puppies (also the unplugged and acoustic versions) Computer City- Perfume, Crash- You Me at 6, Every Teardrop is a Waterfall- Coldplay, Geronimo- Shepperd, and Girlfriend- Icona Pop.**

**I do not own Criminal Minds, but I do own what my brain added on to their story.**


	6. Chapter 6

After a long four hours of listening to 'Garcia,' the slightly chubby, blonde, walking rainbow of color typing on her keyboards and answering the phone, Emily comes back. She hovers over to me, just quietly sitting at a small table shoved off into a corner. I was playing a random game on a laptop Garcia gave me.

"Hotch gave me permission to sit this case out to take care of you." She points at me and pulls a chair out for herself. I stay quiet, absently tapping at the keys on the laptop. I guess Emily let her curiosity get the best of her, because she pulled the old electronic out of my reach and into hers, gently closing the lid and looking it over.

"It's kinda funny, but I still remember when we used these on cases." She calls out to Garcia, who is sitting with her face close to the screen, on edge waiting for more information to come in on the newest killer.

"The Dell Latitude D620? Yeah… I remember too. I just got done cleaning it out so it runs fast again." Penelope talks quietly. After a few moments of silence she yells out "Aha!" which results with me jumping a few inches off my chair and letting out a small shriek while covering my eyes.

When I split my hands apart the two older women are staring at me, and my face flushes over a reddish tint.

I've heard of some people laughing uncontrollably in awkward, or stressful, or tension filled situations. I am one of those unlucky people. Being a person who people already look at like a crazy because I purposely take a blade to my skin, laughing with no control is just like the icing on top of the crazy cake.

My laugh starts out like a quiet snicker that could be confused as a cough and slowly graduated to this awkward contagious laugh that spread to Emily and then to Penelope. In the matter of five minutes, all of us were laughing like weirdos. That is, until Garcia's computer started beeping. She cut off her laughter and turned to face the screen, boxes of information popping up onto the orange FBI wallpaper that cover the screens.

Emily lightly taps me on my shoulder and mouths "I think it is about time we leave." I silently agree with her, both of us getting up from our chairs. I tuck mine back under the desk and retrieve my bag, and Emily puts hers back where she pulled it from. When we get a few feet away from the door Garcia calls out, "You can take the laptop with you. And you got to make sure to visit, because I see computery talent in you."

My mind pauses for a second. Confusion takes over my voice.

"Pen, I already have a laptop..."

"You can never have enough computers. That and I am pretty sure by the look of your face when this thing booted up that your computer is probably as fast as a block of cheese."

"Thanks, Penelope," I say with a slight laugh as I pick up the computer and tuck it under my arm. Prentiss holds the door, and I start walking back in the direction of where her desk is until she stops me.

"I'm serious, you need to visit!" Says the muffled voice of the 'Oracle of all things known and unknown' behind the door. I just keep walking, not knowing where I was going and not really caring.

"I don't know where you're going, but I'm going to go to my car and go home. You're welcome to come with me if you want to… You might not want to, but you kinda have to." She says a slight smirk on her face. I follow her out to the parking lot, but instead of going to one of the black Suburban, we made a turn to a black Chevy Impala. She unlocks the doors, and I crawl into the back seat.

There are a few papers scattered on the ground, and the car smells like a mixture of coffee and vanilla. I shove my bag on the floor and lay back on the seat, a sudden fatigue coming over me. My mind flashes to the amount of sleep I got last night, and the events of today, and I shut my eyes. I can feel the car start up, the light vibrations traveling slightly though my shoes. The radio turns on to an oldies station, the volume down low, but still audible.

I must have dozed off because after a little while of time, hands are gently shaking me awake.

"I'm up…" I mumble into the seat of the car. I can hear a slight snicker from someone, and I can gradually see my vision going back to normal. I move at a snail's pace and slowly pull myself out of the car and out into the world. The first thing I was faced with was an older building that looks like it wouldn't know anything about an elevator. I can hear Prentiss shut the door of the car and suddenly she's next to me.

"Welcome to Casa Della Prentiss. I've got your bag." She rests her arm on my shoulder and we both walk to the front door, where a doorman opens it for us. The lobby is big and the lighting makes the room warm and inviting. She pulls me over to the elevator and pokes at the button until the door opens.

Right before we are able to enter the elevator, someone grabs Emily's attention.

"Hotch, what are you doing here?" Emily put her hand on the edge of the elevator door, stopping it from closing. I stay quiet and shift behind her. Hotch looks frumpy, like he ran all the way here from the FBI building.

"A really important case came in and I need you to come with us." He says, smoothing his shirt out and putting on his normal stone face.

"Okay... Should I leave Shay with Garcia?" She asks, using her elbow to point at me. Hotch ponders it for a millisecond and then says "Garcia is coming with us. We need her."

While Emily and Hotch were discussing, I realized that he doesn't blink. He hasn't blinked at all. I also realized that I zoned out, staring at the floor, when I was shocked back into the real world when Emily angrily said, "Alaska!? Are you kidding me?"

My head snapped up and my mind rejoined back into the conversation. Emily was pissed, Hotch just looked like a stone with a face, and I was mostly clueless.

"Fine. Just let me get my go bags from my house and we'll meet you in the car."

During the time the adults were talking, the elevator was called up to service a person on a different floor. Emily's face could describe exactly what she was thinking, 'You have got to be fucking kidding me.' I just tapped her on her shoulder and pointed in the direction of a door with a diagram of stairs next to it.

She grabbed my arm by my elbow and we quickly make our way up the stairs.

It turns out, Agent Prentiss lives on the 6th floor of the building, and that I have never hated stairs more in my life. I really don't know how it is physically possible for a woman wearing heeled boots to be able to climb stairs as fast as Emily can. I was panting by the time we got to her door.

She quickly made her way into her house, dropping my bag along the wall by the door and rapidly moving into another room to pack a few things. I saunter further into the apartment, noticing the same warm heating like down in the hallway. There are a few photographs and paintings hanging on the wall. The furniture looks new, but not modern. I glide my hand over the back of the couch, feeling the soft material.

Emily speeds out of a room with a duffle bag slung over her shoulder looking really flustered. She goes into her kitchen and starts digging for something in all the drawers.

"Where did you go?" I can hear her mumble to herself as she starts to open and slam shut the cabinet doors. When she pulls open the last one, a ball of fur flies out of it and lands on her shoulder.

"There's my baby kitty."

**AFTER FOREVER... UPDATE**

**Woo. I bet you thought I forgot about you. NO! Just blame school because...**

**14 missing assignments... and 23 assignments due in one day. aslkgj;lk wat?**

**Yeah... then add the nervous breakdown that I had two weeks ago that landed me in the hospital...**

**Yay. This is really short, sorry, but expect more updates... later... not sooner.**

**I do not own Criminal Minds**


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